The Test of the Ore (Assay)

Lyrics

[Intro]
In the lapidary workshop, stone walls at 12 degrees Celsius,
Dawn light hits the window at 6:00 AM sharp.

[Verse 1]
I crush the ore with John Rae's ghost watching,
That Scottish surveyor from 1813 to 1893,
His hammer in my hand, steel on stone,
Echoing in this room facing east.
The sample from Point Nemo's forgotten vein,
Ground to dust, mixed with flux in the chipped ceramic crucible.
Nitric acid bites the air, sour and sharp,
As I pour it into graduated glass vials at 6:15.

[Chorus]
Assay the ore, test for gold,
Balance the brass scale, etched numbers fine.
0.04 percent, the streak on basalt touchstone,
Feels the metal's honesty through fingertips.
Pemba stands unimpressed, robe still at 9:15 AM.

[Verse 2]
The magnifying loupe, lens scratched from years,
Reveals the poor yield, like Rae's Arctic finds in 1853.
Half-eaten rye bread on the tin plate,
Breakfast at 5:45, now cold beside the workbench scars.
No vehicles here, just the quiet clink,
Of hammer and stone, the assay's quiet verdict.

[Bridge]
Gaps in the record: unnamed apprentices swept the dust,
Ore's origin lost, ship or shore unknown.
But the balance tips, truth in 0.04,
Pemba's nod, unimpressed but noted.

[Verse 3]
Temperature rises to 16 degrees by mid-morning,
Sun through the single window, lighting the vials.
John Rae's quote lingers: the land speaks louder than gold.
I note it in pencil, faint scratch on paper.

[Chorus]
Assay the ore, test for gold,
Balance the brass scale, etched numbers fine.
0.04 percent, the streak on basalt touchstone,
Feels the metal's honesty through fingertips.
Pemba stands unimpressed, robe still at 9:15 AM.

[Outro]
The workshop cools again, assay done.
Just 0.04, but the process holds.